


Live and Learn

by UlisaBarbic



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blacksmith - Freeform, Blue Mountains | Ered Luin, Childhood in Blue Mountains, Durin Family, Durin Family Feels, Dwarf Culture, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Good Uncle Thorin, Paternal Thorin, Pre-Quest of Erebor, Thorin is a good parent, Uncle Thorin, Young Fíli, Young Fíli and Kíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlisaBarbic/pseuds/UlisaBarbic
Summary: A young Fili has his first try in the forge on his own and things could not have gone worse. Leave it to Uncle Thorin to set things right.





	Live and Learn

Maybe he should have headed back inside.

The clouds overhead were ominous and the halls of his Uncle loomed a good fifteen minutes away with decent weather. Kili was probably tugging their mother’s skirts to wear, asking about his whereabouts. He could picture the slight panic in his brother’s eyes, the pitched anxiety that his beloved elder brother had not checked in from his day at the forge which surely was most unusual!

His mother would smile, ease Kili’s hair back and comment that surely he would be in for supper and then they would all find out what secrets had been uncovered amid the forge for Fili’s first solo project.

Inwardly, she would worry and likely would throw one of his favorite meats into the stew, in hopes of luring him home with an appeal to his belly.

It worked and that was why he was so far out (away from the oh-so-lovely smells), clinging to a half broken branch as he pondered amid his thoughts. He truly had been looking forward to this day as being allowed to work on a solo project in the forge was a huge step forward in being able to help with the projects that brought money into their halls. Fili had always been fixated on that!

Now, a day that had supposed to have ended in him returning homeward with triumph in his heart and a new knife for his uncle to display had instead resulted in a downtrodden blond haired Prince too ashamed to come home as things were.

He was a child of Durin’s Line! They were the children of Mahal! Stone and anvil and soot and fire were as much blood and flesh.

He did not feel one today.

“Fili.”

The voice below him was full of conviction with a twinge of annoyance but a great deal of compassion. He knew without looking who had come seeking him.

“Uncle Thorin.”

The dark haired dwarf slipped under the tree, placing his hands upon the trunk. “You have made the whole family rather anxious, lad. But I suspect you knew that.”

Fili nodded. “Wasn’t why I didn’t come home but...I knew it would happen.”

Curling his fingers about the branches, Thorin pushed himself up, a foot to one branch, a hand to another until he was hoisted nearly level with his oldest sister-son. “Yet something has kept you from the family and I’d wager it had something to do with the forge today.”

Head down, perhaps a little lower, golden locks hiding his face, Fili nodded, looking very much like a drowned rat despite the lack of rain as of yet.

“I do believe that, of all dwarves, I might be able to help you in that area, my boy.” Thorin’s tone stayed level, strong and unrelenting. “But you would need to loosen your tongue a bit.”

“...I’m unworthy to be of Mahal’s line.” His voice broke. “I’ve failed in all your teachings, Uncle.” 

The sharp flick of his uncle’s thumb against his forehead made his head jerk up, blond braids bouncing. The stinging faded quickly and his eyes settled right on his Uncle’s.

“None of that nonsense, Fili. You’ve never failed me before and I shan’t believe that you have started now.” Lifting the boy’s chin gently, “What has put such thoughts in your head?”

After a moment, Fìli reached into his tunic and pulled out a small parcel wrapped in cloth. It clattered as he moved it and after a brief pause, he unfolded the linens and passed it to his Uncle’s hands.

Laying amid the cloth, was a small knife, wooden handle—sanded with expertise, carved intricately with runes with a small brass guard. The blade itself, while polished and bright with a beautiful edge was in two pieces, a single break one inch from the hilt had cleaved it in two.

Thorin’s eyes softened. Wrapping up the blade carefully, he tucked it into his belt and then reached over, clasping his sister-son under his left arm and lifting him to his side. “Come. Let us speak.”

Fili wrapped his arm around the thick neck and clung tightly, letting his fingers sink into the familiar dark waves even as his mother’s brother gradually took them both down from his perch, inch by inch before settling into the relative comfort of the mossy earth and setting Fili down by his side.

“It looks like a fine example of a blade to me, Fili.” Thorin began simply. “Well balanced, made with patience and preciseness, all traits that Mahal takes pride in.”

Lifting eyes full of images tears, Fili pondered first his uncle’s vision and then his sanity. “Uncle! Did you see it?!”

“Aye, I just said as much, did I not?”

Frustration bubbled over into stammering, Fili declared, “It BROKE Uncle! First test strike and it split right in two! It’s trash!”

Fire erupted in Thorin’s eyes and he took Fili firmly by the chin. “Enough. You’ll not curse the art of your hand with such foulness, am I clear, son of my sister?”

Caught both by his uncle’s grip and the solemness of his tone, Fili swallowed his tears. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

Satisfied, Thorin released him. “Yes, it broke but that pain is something known to any dwarf that works Mahal’s art. Even me, Sister-Son.”

“Y-you?” Fili’s eyes all but doubled in size. “B-but I’ve seen your work, Uncle! It’s never—“

“Ah,” The elder corrected. “You’ve seen my completed works. You’ve not seen the pieces I melt down and reuse because they warp or bend or break. Mahal’s art is one that challenges the artist on all levels, physical and emotional. Even our father, Father Durin, lost works to the imperfection of the metal we shape.”

Running his hand past his eyes, Fili sniffed “I did everything like you taught me! I waited until the metal was the shade of the sunset and I didn’t pull it out of the oil right away. I put it in slow and took it away slow.” His face fell. “It still warped.”

Thorin gave a nod. “How did you correct it? That blade was equal to a staff’s straightness.” 

“I...I put it back in the forge and re-quenched it.” Fili reported. “It warped again and I tried to straighten it on the anvil while it was hot but it didn’t. So I put it back in the fire. That time, it came out straight!”

“Mmm.” Thorin mused softly. “And I would also wager, my lad, that if you were to think back to your third quench, you’d recall a ping or clink when you put it into the oil.”

Fìli paused, sat back and thought. Everything had seemed to go so quickly and he was so worried about getting a straight blade “A little one.”

“The sound each metalsmith dreads.” Thorin advised. “Some metal will resist our craft and multiple attempts to quench will often sway metal that way.” He removed the wrapped blade from his belt and gently presented the broken blade. “I’d imagine such a thing occurred here, deep in the heart of the metal. It is not something we can always predict nor prevent. When you tested your blade, it presented itself as a solid break.”

Resting his hand in Fili’s hair, Thorin gently drew the boy close and rested his forehead against his. “This knife is worthy of all the praise I can give it, my boy. It has done more on this structural failure than I could have done in a hundred hours of lecturing.”

Fili lifted his eyes “It has?”

“Aye, tell me Fili: what do you know now that you would not have known he your blade not broken?”

The younger dwarf considered what his uncle had said “Requenching can damage the blade. A ping or clink when you quench means something is going wrong. Sometimes metal doesn’t work like we want it to no matter what we do.” He set his Uncle with a look. “But YOU taught me that, Uncle Thorin. Not my blade.”

Thorin smiler knowingly “Would I have known to tell you if you were not upset by your broken blade?”

Fili pondered this. “Maybe not for a while...and now that know, I’ll...know how to make a better blade!”

That realization no longer seemed a far away dream or something he just told himself to make his ego feel less bruised. “I’ll get more practice doing things better and then I can get to YOUR level, Uncle!”

Laughing, the Dwarf King lay a hand to the boy’s shoulder “That you will, dear sister-sob. After more burns, more sweat and many more broken blades.” He stood and after a moment, Fili followed. “But I can promise you that no raising of the hammer to a blade will be happening for dwarves that fail to return home at night and fill their bellies. Our bodies do not work well under such conditions.” 

Fìli smiled, a real smile. “Think Ma might forgive me for making her worry?”

Unwrapping the broken blade, Thorin let his face warm “She may when she hears how much you’ve grown, Sister Son.”

Taking hold of the blade with a whole new light to his eyes, Fili grinned “Then, let us go tell her!”

The two headed back towards the halls where a strong scent still wafted outward, calling both inward. Filí paused, hand on the entry way then looked upward, “Uncle Thorin?”

The Dwarf King gave an encouraging nod and after a moment more, he answered the statement that flowed from Fili’s eyes even without a word leaving the boy’s mouth. “You’re welcome, Fili.”

Head held high, the blond haired Prince entered the room “Ma, Kíli, wait until you see what I did in the forge!” 


End file.
